drip, drip, drip
by McMuffin
Summary: Post-Addison/Derek divorce. A snippet of what Addison's life has become as she breaks down. For the prompt; Addison, vodka. / She can't feel. She can't think. / She loves it. /


_Here be angst. (Which you should know I don't usually write) written for the ga_angst_battle #2 at LJ for the prompt "Addison: vodka" and kind of "Addison: cut, bleed, death" except minus the "death". Hope you like it... please give feedback, I'd really love some :)  
Ugh, I'm kinda mad at this site right now, it doesn't let me have crosses as dividers... and it doesn't space out my paragraphs properly-- I wanted a large gap in between all the 'drips'. Anyway. Ignore me. Read, love, review.  
_

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Tears fall like drops of blood. Draining her, weakening her. Dropping into her empty glass, replacing the clear liquid that was once there. Reminding her of rejected dreams and unfulfilled promises.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

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She hasn't had a proper night's sleep this month- unless passing out from alcohol consumption counts, but to her, it doesn't. A proper night's sleep entails waking up feeling refreshed, feeling not hung over, feeling happy to go to work, feeling happy to _live _for that matter.

Countless hours have been spent mumbling to herself, willing herself to stand and attempt to live the next day, willing herself to ignore the screaming headache and the acid taste in her mouth.

Even more hours have been spent cursing the vodka… but not enough hours to stop drinking it, it seems.

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_  
Yes._

The numbing, tingling sensation is crawling all over, seeping into her body through her pores. Seeping into her blood stream through her capillaries. Seeping into her heart through her veins.

_Yes._

She can't feel. She can't think.

She loves it.

She is unable to remember the heartache courtesy of divorce and infidelity and ignorance. She is unable to feel the pain of dropping a shot glass on the ground and then walking over the tiny splinters. She doesn't mind as the blood pools out of the soles of her feet and stains the carpet, leaving her feeling even more light-headed and delirious. No, she doesn't mind at all.

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Lying on the bed in an L shape, feet hanging off of the edge as she watches the red liquid slide down her toughened soles to her toes before gravity pulls it down to the floor where it forms droplets. She watches with a sardonic smile on her blood red lips, from her lipstick, she hasn't quite reached the level of insanity needed to become a vampire, and revels in the fact that she is no longer just hurting emotionally, but physically.

Her feet throb, and somewhere in the back of her mind that is filled with thoughts of stabbing her ex, screwing the manwhore and punching the intern-her ex's intern, not her intern, a voice is telling her she better bandage them up soon or she could pass out from blood loss. She is ignoring that voice, as the other voices are screaming things akin to _'vodka will sooth the pain' _and _'why did you think of him as your intern?'_

She decides to ignore voice two because any thought about a male sends her heart into overdrive as it beats away like it is sending out pain with every beat, and goes with the idea of more vodka.

It's not the best idea, considering the clear liquid is what has gotten her into this mess in the first place. Drunkenly agreeing to marry Derek. Drunkenly agreeing to date Derek in the first place, for that matter. Drunkenly sleeping with Mark… though she didn't feel so drunk at the time, she now realises that she had consumed a lot of alcohol before he arrived. And now? Drunkenly forcing her way through the thing called life.

She raises the bottle to her mouth. Parts her lips. Pours the remaining mouthfuls down her throat. Swallows numerously to eradicate the fire.

Lets the tears fall minutes later when she remembers how to be a doctor, and remembers that allowing her feet to be cut by glass is not the best thing in the world. Shakily she leans down, throws the empty bottle against the wall.

It breaks.

Like everything else in her life.

She pulls at the shards of glass with blood-covered fingers and finds the agonizing pain to be more of a relief than when she cut her feet.

Vodka overriding sobriety, she takes the time to slowly pull the jagged solids from her rough flesh, and finding that with every tiny piece, she becomes closer to closure on those tiny parts to her life. The depressing thoughts are slowly being pushed aside, until an almost delirious happiness seizes control.

Almost.

The delirious mood lasts about ten minutes, until a drunken-cross-delirious-cross-heartbroken-cross-in-denial Addison stands up and the pain shoots up her entire body.

She falls on to the bed in hysterics. Tears pouring out of what feels like every pore of her body, the numbing sensation leaving with them, through the same holes it had travelled in through.

A shudder runs through her body, and she is feeling exhausted. Tears emptying her like the blood emptying her, she mutters one final curse of the vodka and passes out.

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Blood is splattered everywhere on the floor and bed.

Glass is shattered everywhere on the floor and bed.

Her heart is scattered to a place no one knows where_.  
_

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Vodka is dripping _everywhere_.


End file.
